


How the (Quarantined) Murats Broke the Internet (and Lannes)

by UselessGoats



Category: Alternate Universe - Fandom, Historical RPF, Modern AU - Fandom, Napoleonic Era RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Quarantine, Trifecta AU, fashion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessGoats/pseuds/UselessGoats
Summary: Caroline Murat inadvertently creates a social media sensation and strikes it rich in the midst of a pandemic--thanks to her husband learning how to sew.
Relationships: Caroline Bonaparte/Joachim Murat
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	How the (Quarantined) Murats Broke the Internet (and Lannes)

**[By Histoireettralala]**

Caroline is cursing the day Napoléon enrolled her in Mme Campan’s Institute; no, scrap that/rewind, she is cursing the day he met Joséphine, and consequently, Hortense, bane of her life, goody-two-shoes of the century who has inspired Napoleon with the truly _visionary_ idea of trying to copy and paste Hortense’s behaviour onto Caroline’s whole self.

Now, Caroline is mature enough to admit some _slight_ controlling tendencies. And _maybe_ a contrarian streak - but try being the youngest sister in the Bonaparte family - you have to fight twice as hard to make yourself a place and get some respect. 

Her point is, she hasn’t taken to the Institute. For excellent reasons. If Hortense has made it a point of honor to excel in some subject, Caroline has systematically hated it. No use fighting for scraps after the star pupil has received the old hag’s whole quota of praise, after all. Now Caroline wholeheartedly embraces whatever makes Madame Campan pinch her lips, shake her head, or sigh (as much as the snobby old lady allows herself to), treasuring every sign of disappointment the way Hortense collects gold stars. (Not to brag, but Caroline is now a master at it). 

Even her marriage is a testament to that superhuman ability of hers.

Not that she didn’t love Joachim anyway - she’s been _ridiculously_ besotted with the man since she was fifteen, and nothing has yet managed to abate her feelings towards the maddening, adorable goofball. But honestly, the way Mme Campan’s face had fallen (oh, ever so slightly, but Caroline knows how to _look_ ) in disapproval had been the cherry on top of the delightful, curly-haired, long-legged cake.

She has relished every single one of their subsequent media appearances, and she would lie if she says she hasn’t occasionally baited the press with their nationwide famous PDA. For now, Caroline admits, in spite of the “scandals” and all the choices she has made, the old witch is still standing and tutting in disapproval - _like that would work_. But someday, yes, oh someday she would _break_ , and it would be all thanks to Caroline.

So - she is cursing. Because, of course, Hortense has always been committed to arts and crafts, and Caroline, therefore, has pointedly ignored them.

And now she can’t sew to save her life.

Literally.

Because masks are mandatory now.

And she has four kids to protect.

And, well, she may suck as a student, but she does NOT suck as a mother. So, taking a deep breath, she watches videos, buys fabric, filters, and elastic bands, and sets herself to the task.

Two hours later, her eyes are red, her voice hoarse, her fingers raw and pricked, and she is irreparably breaking her ties with the sewing machine.

She vaguely considers calling Pauline - even if she can’t sew herself (can she ?) Pauline will surely know someone who can, and at least she is kind enough not to let anyone know of Caroline’s embarrassing problem.

She is still scowling fiercely when the shrieking chorus begins (the kids’ usual reaction to Joachim’s arrival), promptly followed by the sound of bags hitting ground and little feet running, three, two, one, impact. And Joachim’s laugh.

  
God but that sound can still bring a smile to her face.

She wipes her eyes and straightens herself up before opening the door to the entry hall where the kids are now swarming around their father and drowning him in cuddles and kisses, stuffing their drawings under his nose and chattering excitedly.  
**  
Beneath the squealing, adoring, warm little pile of his children’s wriggling bodies, Joachim soaks up the innocent love and its side dish of kicking little feet and shrieks in the ear. As Louise’s sticky little fingers pat his cheek, he sees from the corner of his eye the door open on his wife.

His sunshine. 

His glorious little dynamo.

But there’s a problem, Joachim thinks frantically (what has he done now ??? nothing comes up!!), because she doesn’t spark her usual energy - oh my God, she’s disappointed, that’s it, disappointed and SAD (WHAT I HAVE DONE ???), her walk is nothing like her usual triumphant gait (it’s the COUCH), even her hair looks listless (Lannes may still let me crash, where is my sleeping bag ??). Joachim takes a deep breath and centers himself before looking at her again, and - oh. She’s not angry at _him._

Oh.

Then whatever has her so bothered is going to die a fiery death and if she wants, Joachim will stomp it to death (with his hooves, Achille’s voice adds in his mind). 

**  
 _Famous last words_ , Joachim muses, hesitantly fingering the white cotton.

He has watched the video. Three times, to make sure. 

He has cut the necessary length and width for six masks (his ambition for tonight is moderate). 

The machine looks back at him, reminding him of a crouched feline, poised to pounce. He eyes it warily. Caroline’s explanations, though thorough, had been… fast paced. Joachim has caught the general idea and in what order the different steps of the process are supposed to happen. He has minded every fold of the fabric and set aside the elastic bands.

It’s… daunting. If he messes that up his family will be stuck inside forever and the house will probably catch fire spontaneously from the sheer frustration burning inside them. Murats need to be OUTSIDE (Bonapartes don’t deal much better with being locked up).

He carefully selects the stitch and folds the fabric by instinct - patterns are as useless as maps, anyway - he’ll go with his guts and God bless the bold.

He takes a deep breath and lines up the three layers of material - with the elastic bands properly tucked inside- under the needle, lowers the presser foot, and gently pushes on the pedal.

Oh my God.

Oh my God it’s happening. 

Joachim marvels at the speed the machine uses to execute its task, remembering to steer the fabric only if needed, and being careful with it (“To be honest, sweetie, I’m not even sure if it’s working well, ” Caroline had admitted. “I think Mama gave it to me, ugh, when I went to the Institute. ” Joachim hadn’t pushed because he wasn’t _that_ insane, some things were taboo in this house).

When the first side is done, he takes a moment to inspect his work before switching to the other side.

Wow.

It’s… Pretty okay ?

The mask all done, Joachim holds it to his face, and stands up to find a mirror (they’re everywhere in this house, and see, it’s useful).

He tries it on.

It’s very… white.

Time for some color, he decides.

Heh. If anyone had told him before tonight that he was going to sew a mask and like it, he would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Because, even though he’d been quick to assure Caroline he totally could do this ( _I’ve repaired my suits several times!_ ), his skills were limited to a temporary little tweak and quick repair when he didn’t have the time to go to the tailor.

In front of the mirror, Joachim smiles beneath the mask.

This is going swimmingly.  
**  
Caroline grumbles when a weight hollows the mattress out. 

“It’s late,” she mutters.

“Shhhh, ” says the voice. Then, with a giddy sort of energy Caroline can only wonder at (who the hell is so _alive_ at such an ungodly hour -oh yeah, that’s right, only Joachim). “Love.”

A pause.

“Sweetheart ?”

Caroline groans.

“Yeah”, she forces out.

“We have seven masks!”

The proclamation wakes Caroline completely and her hand is already searching for the light switch.

“What?” 

She pushes the switch and looks at Joachim’s face. Blinking under the sudden flood of light, he looks …

Surprised and happy. A little bit like a dog who has just learned a new trick.  
The smile on his face is infectious.

“You want to see them ?”

Caroline is already up.

In her office, the old machine sleeps and seven masks wait in a wicker basket. They’re real. They look like the models Caroline vainly tried to follow. She touches them, putting one over her face. It fits. The elastics do not hurt. 

_They have masks_.

Joachim watches her, waiting anxiously for her verdict. Her eyes shine in the mirror, and then she turns towards him, takes off the mask and sets it aside.

A purring Caroline leaps into his arms.

So much for sleep.

**  
At the usual hour, Lannes, bottle and glass at the ready, flicks on Skype. He has so much to tell Murat (to be honest, he never knew before quarantine how much of a gossip he’d turn out to be, but what can you do) and even without any grand news (which is the case most of the time) it’s always a highlight of his day.

The kids are lovely but sometimes you need an adult conversation, okay ?

An adult male conversation.

A bro discussion, yeah, okay.

“Murat ?” he calls.

Weird. Usually Joachim leaps onto any greeting, if he’s not the first one to call.

“Yo ? Murat ?”

Nothing.

“JOACHIM MURAT” he bellows.

Finally, a harried face appears. The black curls are _everywhere_ and the eyes seem inhabited by some unholy light.

Has Joachim started to drink _without him_?

Or worse, with someone else ?

Lannes feels oddly cheated at the idea.

“Ah, yeah, okay, hello, Lannes!” says Murat, blinking. “Is it already time ?”

 _Already_ ? The day had dragged _on_.

“What the hell is happening,” he blurts out. “Have you started drinking ?”

Murat looks weirdly offended, scrunching up his nose.

“Drink- what ? No!”

He straightens up and clears his throat.

“No, Lannes, I didn’t cheat on our Skype cocktail hour with some random booze harlot, I respect you too much for that. I was just, ” he lowers his voice and Lannes instinctively leans towards his screen, intrigued. 

“I was busy.

\- Are the kids okay ?

\- Yeah, they’re fine! Excellent! The spirit is undaunted, yeah!

\- Joachim,” Lannes slowly articulates.

Artless blue eyes look up at him.

“I was making masks, and I forgot the time, that’s all!”

\- Masks, “ Lannes repeats in a bland tone.

\- Masks,” Joachim nods.

\- Masks?" What the hell, Lannes wonders, masks, like, actual masks against Coronavirus ? Masks, as in, paper masks or clown masks for the kids, right ?

\- Masks, as in, mandatory masks, yeah, I’m making them, ” and Lannes has stepped into an alternate dimension.

\- You’re making masks.

\- I am.

\- Masks.

\- Masks," Joachim patiently assures him.

\- Making ? As in, as in SEWING them ?” 

The black curls fly as Murat vehemently nods.

_Holy shit._

  
Lannes almost busts a gut laughing.

“I could show you”, Murat says with a hint of disapproval in his voice (it was _weird_ ) “but if this is the way you react I might not bother.”

The laughter stops short. Murat’s headmasterly tones are frankly weirding Lannes out.

Is this a prank ?

Lannes knows it’s not. It’s all over Murat’s face. He’s actually _serious_.

Holy _**shit**_.

“Why are you the one sewing the masks ?” he finally asks.

“Because,” Murat shrugs. “I volunteered.”

Lannes blinks.

“Plus, ” he adds, with a smile, “ Turns out I’m great at it!”

That is still to be seen, Lannes thinks, remembering, oh, way too many boasts.

“You’ll see”, Murat nods sagely.

“Right”, Lannes croaks.

The evening goes on.

**  
He made the haberdashery’s day, Joachim thinks, fabric piled up in his arms.

Good for them, and good for his family.

Today, he is going to let the kids choose the fabric for their masks. Just because they are young doesn’t mean they have to settle for their parents’ choice, right ? He carefully picked anything that could interest or amuse the little ones.

He has turtles, an armada of kittens, various birds, flowers, geometric patterns, dots and stripes of all sorts.

“What are you doing, Papa ?”

Joachim turns to face Letitia.

“I just bought some fabric to make some masks for you all, sweetheart. Do you want to choose yours ?”

The little girl nods eagerly.

“Can I stay with you ?” she says, leaning into him.

Joachim can’t resist such a request.

**  
Caroline climbs up the stairs to Joachim’s office where he finally set camp with the sewing machine two days ago.

She is still mesmerized by his mastery over the beast.

He has adopted a routine, and tonight, she needs proof that Joachim sewing actually happened (Pauline had laughed, and Joséphine had asked for receipts), so she’s carrying her camera. She scowls inwardly, why can’t anyone ever _believe_ them ? Joachim told her about Lannes the other day - well, what is so extraordinary about it ? Being male doesn’t make you genetically unable to sew, you know. Men!

Hushed voices wash over her, Letitia’s flute-like voice overlapping with Joachim’s warm tones.

“And then I put the fabric here,” their little girl is saying.

“Uh huh,” her man agrees, with the softness he saves for his children (and herself). “ Perfect!”

Letitia giggles.

Caroline, readying her camera, silently enters the room. Both father and daughter are so absorbed by their task and by each other that they don’t notice her presence.

Letitia sits on her father’s knee, her little hands holding the fabric - a giraffe pattern - and Joachim is entirely focused on her.

Caroline starts filming.

When the giraffe-adorned mask is ready, Letitia snuggles into her father’s chest and he offers her the next selection, apparently a swarm of tropical fishes.

“Your turn, Papa”, says the little girl.

“Oh, you’re right, princess”, Joachim smiles, mock chastened. “Shall I ?”

Letitia nods determinedly. “Go on good Sir".

Joachim sews the next mask.

It’s very sweet, Caroline thinks, beaming behind her camera. This is the perfect proof that she was right, not only about his sewing ability, but about her own choice years ago. I’m so going to upload this as soon as I’m out of here, she rejoices. 

***

 _New video uploaded_ , by @carolinemurat, 7.54

@pauline-borghese, 8.01: oh my god it’s so cute!

@pauline-borghese, 8.01: and he’s doing great!! how many has joachim already sewn ?

@pauline-borghese, 8.08: sorry, just had to watch it again. (<3) This is an adorable duo and you were totally right, I should never have doubted you.

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.14: wow

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.14: I’m speechless.

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.14: In a very good way!! Congratulations to Joachim.

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.17: very sweet and actually educational! Congratulations!

@aimée-davout, 8.26: I wish Louis would do that with our little one!

@joséphine-malmaison, 8.34: Can I share this on other social medias , Caroline ? 

@pauline-borghese, 8.36: was about to suggest the same! I can boost it up with my contacts. Up for it sister ?

The phone rings.

“Mama ?” 

“Uh huh, he did that. He’s… Yes, Mama, he actually offered, and.. Mama. Mama! Listen to me please ? Yes, I promise. Uh huh. Yes. Yes, _really_. Did you watch the video ? You really should, your namesake is on it too. ”

Ten minutes later.

“Yes, Mama ? Is everything - oh. _Oh_. Well, yes, he’s still sewing. Wha- yes, Mama, I won’t disturb him. Of course, Mama. You.. what ? His favorite dessert ? Why… Mama we’re in lockdown, he can’t go to Corsica. You.. Ah, yes, of course, I’ll ask him. And yes, of course, I’m feeding him! Mama!”

@aglaéauguiéney, 8.47: mind boggling.

@eleonoredenuelle, 8.49: how talented can a man be ?

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.53: It’s actually a better tutorial than the official ones ? And so much cuter.

@hortense-beauharnais-bonaparte, 8.55: I wish I had a little girl.

@carolinemurat, to @joséphine-malmaison, @pauline-borghese, 8.58: _Yes_.

***

**[By JoachimNapoleon]**

Caroline groggily plops into her desk chair, yawning in between sips of her morning coffee as she waits for her laptop to start up. She smiles at the sound of the sewing machine running from across the hall; Joachim is already hard at work making a new batch of masks for their friends and family. He has become quite determined, he informed her this morning, to make as many as he can, now that he’s discovered he has such a talent for it. 

She is secretly relieved that he has developed such a liking for this new hobby. Joachim has been delighted to be able to spend so much more time with the kids since the office temporarily closed, but at the same time… she knew her husband well enough by now to sense his restlessness. Joachim has always been bursting with energy and a perpetual need to be doing Something Important–not unlike Napoleon himself. Sitting at home for days on end, feeling useless, was simply unbearable for him.

Now, he has a purpose again, and she can already see the effect it is having on her husband, the added spark in his eye, the renewed spring in his step. _And_ , she thinks _, I’ve gotten an adorable new video out of it to add to my collection_.

Caroline takes another sip of coffee as her YouTube page loads.

She nearly chokes on the hot liquid in her surprise.

Since she went to bed last night, her video of Joachim sewing with Letitia has accumulated… 12,184 views. There are hundreds of new comments and subscribers.

Caroline blinks. She figured Paulette and Josephine would be able to give it a nice boost, but… _wow._

She refreshes the page.

12,192.

She refreshes it again.

12,203.

She decides to take a look at some of the top-rated comments.

@napoleon, 12:03: Well this was most… unexpected. So, when can I expect my masks?

@j.poniatowski, 1:05: MY DUDE

@ney, 12:17: very sweet, and kudos on not hurting yourself yet joachim

@bakingsoult, 3:27: maybe we can make a deal, fresh cookies of your choice for masks? PM me

@elisa.bacchiochi, 2:08: CAROLINE WE ALL NEED MORE OF THIS PLZ

@augereau, 4:02: My dear Murat, I think we could do a very lucrative business together; give me a call if you’re interested.

@jeanlannes, 12:54: O___O

The majority of the comments, though, are from total strangers, many of whom have felt compelled to comment on the physical beauty of Caroline’s husband. It would take far too long to go through them all and filter out the ones that go a little _too_ far, especially as new comments are constantly being added to the thread. She sighs. At least most of them seem to be wholesome enough. And, anyway, it isn’t like Caroline isn’t _used_ to this by now. 

After finishing her coffee and refreshing the page one more time–the video is now up to slightly over 14,000 views–Caroline grabs her camera.

She has an audience to please.

***

[Three days later]

Lannes is _not_ happy. 

Aside from being bored to _death_ right now as a result of so many days pent up inside, the masks he ordered from Amazon _still_ haven’t arrived, and wearing them is now required in order to go anywhere. The family’s groceries are running low (except for their toilet paper; Lannes had made sure to buy twelve 24-packs of that once this whole thing had started, a foresight of which he was extremely proud). How is he supposed to go grocery shopping now without the requisite mask? 

To make matters worse, Murat had entirely abandoned him for the past couple nights. Lannes is deeply wounded by this. How could his best friend just up and forget about two straight Skype cocktail hours? Especially when he knew perfectly well that they were the only thing keeping Lannes sane at this point? Even a flurry of furious text messages had failed to impress upon Murat the gravity of his neglectfulness.

Ten minutes later, a “sorry lol” was the verbatim response Lannes had received, followed shortly after by a “super busy” and then a “maybe this weekend idk”. Murat had not even had the decency to reply to Lannes’ ensuing “WTF”.

 _If I don’t get out of this house soon, I’m going to lose my mind_ , Lannes thinks.

He grabs his cellphone and dials the one man capable of helping him in this crisis. 

“What in God’s name is it today, Lannes?” a weary Larrey asks after the seventh ring.

“Doc!!! Do you have any spare masks?”

“I’ve already told you three times I don’t!”

“How can you _still_ not have any though? YOU’RE A DOCTOR!!!”

“That’s correct; I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker. The mask demand has far outpaced the supply right now. Have you tried asking Murat?”

Lannes blinks, uncomprehending. “Ask… Murat…?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta give it to him, he’s been making some excellent quality masks!” Larrey exclaims. “I’m actually wearing one right now.” 

Lannes doesn’t know how to even begin to process this statement. His arm holding the phone goes slack; the phone drops from a limp hand to the carpeted floor. 

Everything Lannes knows is wrong. 

Well, except one thing: he needs alcohol. 

A _lot_ of alcohol.

**Now.**

He heads towards the kitchen.

“Lannes?” the voice of Larrey calls through the abandoned phone. “Are you still there?? Lannes???”

***

Ney stares at himself in the mirror, studying his new mask. Murat had delivered it to him personally earlier this morning, along with a set of masks for Aglaé and all their children.

“Letitia picked the fabric for your mask _personally_ ,” Murat had said with a wink.

“Well, I hope you’ll give her my thanks. Tell her she has very good taste.”

A giant image of the perpetually scowling Grumpy Cat covers Ney’s mask. 

Aglaé appears behind him in the mirror. Appraising her mask-clad husband for a moment, she nods approvingly. 

“It suits you perfectly, my love.”

Her husband’s mouth might be covered by the mask, but Aglaé isn’t fooled. His smile is betrayed by his eyes. 

***

[Three weeks later]

_Fifty-thousand subscribers._

And Caroline is only just getting started. A prominent blog had e-mailed her this morning about doing an article on Joachim’s mask-making venture. Shortly afterwards, a local news channel had called to inquire about conducting a Skype interview with Joachim (and would it be possible for little Letitia to be present too?). Joachim had been reluctant to leave his work–there were still so many masks he needed to make!!–but Caroline had convinced him it would be for the Greater Good. 

At Pauline’s suggestion, she had monetized the YouTube channel yesterday morning.

Joachim enters Caroline’s office, carrying Louise in his arms. Caroline greets them warmly.

“Did Napoleon like his new mask?” Joachim asks.

The last video Caroline had uploaded had been of Joachim and Letitia making Napoleon’s mask, complete with her brother’s signature “N” ornately embroidered by Joachim himself. His skills were progressing at a surreal pace. Imagining the look on Madame Campan’s face at the sight of Joachim’s meticulous sewing and craftsmanship, Caroline makes a mental note to forward the video link to her former mentor. _See?!_ Caroline imagines herself screaming triumphantly at the haughty old woman. _I was right about him all along!!!_

“Napoleon said, and I quote: ‘Tell him it’s _really not bad at all_.’” She gives him a knowing smile.

Joachim beams. He’s fluent enough in Napoleonese to know that this is high praise indeed.

***

[One month later]

 _Two-hundred-fifty-thousand subscribers_.

Caroline’s latest video–Joachim teaching Lannes to use the sewing machine–is shaping up to be their biggest hit yet. (She’d had to implore the two to keep their language as clean as possible; this is a _family-friendly blog_ ~~and besides that, it simply wouldn’t do to put the ad revenue at risk)~~. Her viewers couldn’t get enough of Letitia and Louise laughing in the background at the struggles of their grumbling Uncle Jean to figure out “this demonic device” (as he called it). But Joachim was a patient teacher, and eventually Lannes had succeeded at making his very first mask. The video culminated triumphantly with him holding the mask aloft towards the camera like a hard-won battle trophy, as Letitia and Louise cheered and Joachim glowed with pride. 

Now, Joachim is beginning to experiment with increasingly ornate embroideries and higher quality materials. 

“Just because it’s for a pandemic,” he insists, “doesn’t mean it can’t be _fashion_.”

***

[Three months later]

 _One million subscribers_.

“ _Vogue_?” Pauline’s tone is one of total disbelief. 

“Vogue,” Caroline affirms. 

“ _THE_ Vogue?” Elisa presses.

“Yes.”

“And he’s going to be… _on the cover_?”

“Yes.”

“On the cover of Vogue.”

“Yes.”

“ _THE_ Vogue.”

“Yes.”

***

[One year later]

_Five million subscribers._

Caroline parks her new cobalt blue Maserati, grabs her Louis Vuitton handbag off the seat, and heads into the house. 

Joachim is in his design room, hard at work as always. He greets her with a kiss.

“How’s it coming?” she asks.

“Pretty good, I think. Maybe another week or so and everything will be wrapped up.”

After months of hitting the runways and photo studios of some of the most famous designers in America and Europe in the aftermath of the pandemic, Joachim has decided to pursue his long-cherished dream of putting out his very own clothing line–for both adults _and children_. So far, their videos of Achille, Letitia, Lucien, and Louise parading around and posing in their dazzling new _haute couture_ outfits were proving to be immensely popular.

They have been floating the idea of live-streaming a fashion show to launch the new line; the participants would be their friends and family. So far, Lannes, Jerôme, Pauline, Elisa, Eugène, Lasalle, Bessières, and Poniatowski have all volunteered. Lannes’ runway walk needs serious, _serious_ work, but there’s still plenty of time.

Of course, the children all want to participate in the show too, and how can Joachim possibly say no?

***

[Six months later]

Napoleon hates shopping. Primarily because Josephine always spends obscene amounts of money–really, if anybody ever found out just _how many pairs of gloves she has_ –he lets out a sigh. It isn’t just about the money though. Shopping for clothes is always such a hassle. Napoleon is a simple man with simple tastes. No frills, no feathers, no silly ornamentation–unlike _some people_. He just wants something nice and comfortable. Something _breathable_. Something that doesn’t cut off the circulation in his arms or legs. 

So of course, he has to live in the age of… skinny jeans. _A crime against God and man_. If he was in charge, he’d criminalize the horrid things. Of course, his ludicrous brother-in-law doesn’t mind them. Murat is always delighted to have an excuse to show off those perfectly chiseled thighs of his.

“Napoleon! Come over here!!” Josephine calls. “I’ve found something you might like!”

 _I highly doubt it._ He sighs again, but proceeds in the direction of her voice. 

***

[The following afternoon]

Napoleon and Josephine arrive at the Murats’ monthly garden party. Caroline has been renovating the place obsessively for the past few months; the spacious property now has a massive heated outdoor pool and vast gardens full of exotic plants and flowers. To the house itself, has been added a large marble terrace.

 _All this because she didn’t want to learn how to sew,_ Napoleon marvels. He wonders how Madame Campan is processing it all. 

Joachim and Caroline see the newly-arrived couple and hurry over to greet them.

Joachim’s greeting cuts off in mid-sentence. His eyes are locked onto Napoleon’s shirt.

“You’re… wearing…”

“Yes. You know, it’s really not bad at all, Joachim. You should make more like this.” He gives Joachim’s ear his signature tweak, before continuing on towards the food table.

Caroline giggles at the sight of her husband stricken speechless–the rarest of rare events.

“Come, my love,” she takes his hand. “Let’s go celebrate our success.”

*****THE END*****


End file.
